


Three Revolutionists Walk Into a Bar

by FowlProse



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Discussion of Death, F/F, Multi, morbidity?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FowlProse/pseuds/FowlProse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feferi has a long road behind her, and the path ahead isn't getting any shorter. </p>
<p>In which there is mild revelry and much navel gazing by three trolls on the eve of their grand heist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Revolutionists Walk Into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liasangria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liasangria/gifts).



The troll slipped into the rowdy establishment just an hour after midnight. It was a strange place, a mock-up of the off-world taverns that the inhabitants hoped to one day see. One might suspect that several of the patrons were most likely well past ascension date, but no one was going to make a fuss in a dive with sugar this raw. The room was largely empty, the only inhabitants non-Imperial sailors and local chanty workers. The combination of teenage blueblood deckhands and warm blood workers was surprisingly genial, considering. To be fair, most trolls that actually enjoyed being around other trolls company were generally a bit milder in disposition or at the least company-starved. The fermented, diluted, honey mead may have had a bit of a gray leaf in the mix.

The troll wore simple clothes, the sort of things that were terribly in fashion right now - as usual for Alternian tastes, there was an obscene amount of black involved. A few cloth strips draped around and between her horns largely hid their shape, but emphasized their length. It was the sort of hopeful but inexpert frippery that made peoples eyes glaze over and ignore you. That is to say, she wore the perfect disguise. The bartenderizer and the interloper shared a meaningful look - that is to say, the bartenderizer nodded meaningfully in the fashion of someone in the know, and the hooded troll waggled her fingers cheerfully and gave a grin.

She sat in a hoofbeast shoe shaped booth at the back of the tavern, where the uneven, water-logged flooring proved a deterent to most. At first, she sat at one of the entrance seats, hesitating before scooting over to sit in the middle. 

Tonight was their last night to really relax before they fucked all kinds of egregious amounts of feces up. The Tyrian heiress picked at the grain of the table, brow furrowed.  
\- - - - -

The next part of the party to arrive was a blueblood. She walked into the pubhive like she was walking onto a yacht - that is to say: she smelt strongly of brine, and her sealegs had not gracefully stepped aside for her land legs to replace them. She caught the attention of several inebriated trolls as she swaggered by towards the booth. Feferi noted with amused resignation the way the blueblood swished her great coat with more enthusiasm at the whispers that were now trailing her.

Vriska, ex-pirate queen and current privateer, flopped down beside Feferi and smiled brightly at her.

Feferi smiled back and patted Vriska's hand on the table comfortingly in advance, "You couldn't have maybe been a bit more subtle?" 

This comment began a five minute long sulking session that Feferi was only just soothing down as their final member arrived.

\- - - - -

Aradia slid in on the other side of Feferi with exactly the lack of fanfair one would expect from someone who spent their life creepin' on people (Aradia was an informant, and a damn good one due to her unique abilities). However, the broad maniacal grin did not suit her profession one bit. Or, perhaps it did. The one trait Feferi's informants seemed to share was a personality as peculiar as a seadweller with thalassophobia. 

Vriska and Aradia shared a few snipes (rather, Aradia cackled and found everything delightful and Vriska took grand offense everytime Aradia smiled) as Feferi desperately signalled arcane and incomprehensible gestures to the bartenderizer - whose lengthy career in liquid imbibements allowed them to interpret it as a fervid call for drinks.

\- - - - -

The problem with being an heiress to an immortal dictator is that at some point you have to depose your predecessor. That, or you got dispatched before you could get to it. You were either dead or ruling with Tyrian blood. So, at a very young age she'd decided to hell with fearing death and begun figuring out how one went about a revolution. It had taken her sweeps of being utter carp at it, but eventually she'd benefited from the simplest lesson: that you can't hold a rebellion for someone else. Damned if you can destroy an empire by yourself, as well. 

Friends came from unlikely places. Fed up warm bloods, tired old juggalos holding rank in the distant fleet - she had even combed the dark reaches of dream space for help.   
Over the years she'd gained many aids in her insurgency, but she didn't have much time for her quadrants. It was just too difficult to have time for close relationships when you're too busy trying to love the entire, wretched species. 

\- - - - -

The great thing about being a Privateer vs a Pirate Queen is that while the title sounded less powerful and sexy, it got you waaaaaaaay more admiration and you were still basically a pirate - just to a more specific crowd. Vriska loved the excitement of being part of a rebellion. It gave you purpose! It made people appreciate you! 

She'd been a terror of the seas before - to high and low born alike. Her neck had been in Feferi's hand - literally, she'd been caught unaware when a raid on a simple coastal fisherman had unearthed the missing heiress - a sweep and change ago, and the heiress had simply gone on cheerfully about how useful she could be to the cause. How much she'd appreciate her help, and couldn't Vriska just see how insensible it all was? Well, the Pirate Queen had decided to pitch her lot in with someone else. She couldn't lose, so what was the harm - after all, she had all the luck.  
(When she'd met the heiress main informant, she'd damn near had a heart attack! There had been many snarky remarks, yelling, and tearful apologies, including one zinger from Aradia about rumours of her continued demise being greatly exaggerated. )

Sure, Feferi could be bossy, and she was always so sure she was right! But, she also didn't hate Vriska when she fucked up, and she was pretty decent in general. Well, that was why Vriska stayed with her at any rate, so whatever. It was okay, as far as causes went. 

Plus, tomorrow she was totally gonna get to do the flashiest flash-bastard move in the whole operation! So, rebellions were awesome. At least for now. In her mind's eye she could see a different world, one where Feferi sighed in disappointment as she heard about yet another imperial fleet vessel being commandeered. It was gonna be great!

\- - - - -

The thing about living your entire childhood in wait for something that never happens is that once you're six sweeps old, dead, and the world hasn't collapsed into a fire pit of meteoric death like it was supposed to . . . You're not really sure what to do. Aradia had been stuck, unable to move on from a world that hadn't gone the way she'd expected, and unwilling to try to find another reason to exist. She could still interact with the world but there was nothing in her left to want to.

When a seadweller had practically popped out of the blue to sit beside her in the ruins of her old home, spouting nonsense about her old friends and Aradia's abilities - Aradia just hadn't had the patience. She'd tried to scare her off with the help of other lost souls, but Feferi had been so adamant. 

(The feeling of touching her palms together and feeling skin. Wanting things again, feeling parts of her being swell to meet a world it had almost forgotten. They made fun of her, but wouldn't you smile, too? )

The thing about being a Undead Rustblood with Connections to the Dead is that you have eyes, ears, and fingers everywhere. The thing about knowing a troll with dominion over life itself is, well, it's pretty useful for everyone involved if you can scratch their back.

\- - - - -

Dawn filtered in through safety glass as the three huddled into the rented respite block. Aradia was giggling, Vriska's fingers little barbs as they pried off whichever clothing came into her grasp. Feferi could feel her blood pumping, not just from the alcohol or the lascivious looks being bandied about by the other two trolls, but in anticipation for tomorrow. Aradia's slender fingers were gentle and precise when she touched them, but her teeth were sharp. Vriska took great care to get as much biomaterial ON them as in the bucket, and afterwards Aradia used her powers to upend the bucket over the ex-pirate's head. There was a lot of laughter, but the gesture was obvious in its symbolism. Its not like the stuff would be necessary after tomorrow.

Feferi stayed up, long after the other two had coiled together in the recuperacoon. She thought of a jadeblood and the half grown mothergrub half way across Alternia. Two more sweeps til she was ready to hatch drones, and another three sweeps until she'd be ready to hatch grubs. It'd be worth it, though. She had to believe she wasn't making a huge mistake.

\- - - - -

The next night, Feferi made her first move. Or rather, the efforts of sweeps of planning took their first obvious effect. 

Vriska's voice reaches a decibel that pierces ear drums as she cackles and lands the final blow on the mothergrub. A network of neural specialists wring the death-signal out across the universe to awaiting neurons. Aradia relaid more and more affirmations from her own network, her smile as wide and serene as ever as she related the summary execution of every living drone.

Across Alternia, imperial schoolfeeds were being replaced by Feferi's own brand of propaganda, created by a pool of trolls that ranged from Alternian youthes to imperial fleet threshecutioners, to still sentient helmsman. Groups of volunteers stood by to help control any rioting (IE to pap the shit out of any Alternian that decided to throw a confused tantrum). Jadebloods on planet were being given two choices: get locked up to be kept out of the way, or join the new order. A pre made message was circulating, sending hopeful words to a populace defined by its servitude. 

It wasn't a war won, not by a long shot. But, it would get Her attention. It would get EVERYONE'S attention. 

The children were her's, she was saying, and we're not making more meat sacks for your army.

\- - - - -

Vriska would later bemoan the agony of post-mothergrub-disembodiment, when the grubs had all been CRAWLING on her with their slimy little bodies. It had taken the worried attention of several elderly jadebloods to keep her from punting the little brats into an early grave. Culling drones deaths bedamned, SHE would take care of them!

\- - - - -

Aradia took it all in stride as if it was any other day, picking through drone corpses in curiosity. How strange that so many had spent their lives fearing them, only to watch them drop like rag dolls. A curious olive blood approached her cautiously, and she took the time to teach them about the internal organs of the drone. Pleasant day, all things considered.

\- - - - -

Feferi just hoped that one day there wouldn't HAVE to be a Tyrian blood holding the strings. She hoped, maybe, someday 500 years from then, that she could simply retire. That little wigglers would grow up spitting on the obsolete caste system. That she could watch generations grow up without fear of being culled. 

Until then, she'd do her duty.

At least she wouldn't be alone, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose your first prompt, as you can see. Hope you like it! It was a real pleasure writing this!


End file.
